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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645974">The Lioness of Casterly Rock</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRhiyana/pseuds/LadyRhiyana'>LadyRhiyana</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward First Times, BAMF Brienne of Tarth, F/M, Marriage of Convenience, Who needs a husband when you've got an army</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:49:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,674</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645974</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRhiyana/pseuds/LadyRhiyana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I heard the men calling you the Lioness," Jaime said. "When we first met, I thought you a shy, lumbering creature – but it seems you’ve learned how to roar. ” </p><p>“I am as I have always been,” she said. “Marrying a lion did not give me added courage.”</p><p>** </p><p>[Or; Brienne's new husband goes off to play at war and she is left to come into her own.]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>279</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Lioness of Casterly Rock</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have posted this before at chapters 15, 33 and 43 of Stray Sparks. But I like this AU so much I thought it deserved to have its own standalone story. If you haven't read this before, welcome! And please enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An arranged marriage.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The news of her betrothal came swift on the heels of Lord Jon Arryn’s death. </p><p>(She would always remember that, afterwards; the odd coincidence of the timing.) </p><p>Her father broke the news to her as gently as he could. She was to be married to Ser Jaime Lannister, newly released from the Kingsguard, within a month. </p><p>“Father, I can’t,” she said. “I won’t.” </p><p>“Brienne,” he replied, taking her hand. “You can. You must.” </p><p>Her father never told her what Lord Tywin had promised – or threatened – in order to secure the match. All she knew was that Lord Tywin gained a daughter-in-law and a secure harbour in the Narrow Sea, and her father gained a husband for his ugly, mannish daughter. </p><p>**</p><p>They were married at Storm’s End. </p><p>Trussed up miserably in an ill-fitting dress, Brienne stood beside the golden, beautiful Kingslayer, conscious that she was one or two inches taller. The septon droned on and on and Brienne fidgeted uncomfortably, her eyes darting this way and that, until her maiden cloak was removed and she felt her new husband drape his gold-embroidered crimson cloak around her shoulders. </p><p>The feast was interminable. King Robert – fat and red-faced – drank and roared his way through all seven courses; the Queen sat beside him, pale with icy rage. Brienne and her new husband – Brienne the Beauty and the golden Kingslayer – were seated in pride of place, in full view of the court and able to hear every scornful whisper and slur. </p><p>She picked miserably at her food. Ser Jaime drank, his smiles growing sharper and sharper with every malicious comment. </p><p>The bedding ceremony was every bit as awful as she’d feared. </p><p>The act itself was – intrusive. Invasive. Uncomfortable. </p><p>In the dim light of the marriage chamber she lay on her back on the great bed, her shift hiked up around her waist, staring into the distance as her husband fitted himself to her and pushed in, uncomfortable and stretching. She held herself awkwardly still as he moved within her, his breathing harsh and his skin sweat-slick until he groaned and she felt a rush of sticky warmth, and then it was all done. </p><p>They lay beside each other afterwards, not touching, not looking at each other: two strangers with nothing in common save their vows.</p><p>**</p><p>“Wine?” he asked, later. His tone was – light. Ironic. False.</p><p>“Yes,” she said, sitting up and pulling her shift back down. “Please.” </p><p>Her new husband smiled crookedly at her careful manners. Hitching his breeches back up, he strolled over to a side-table and poured two goblets of Arbor red. </p><p>His linen shirt hung loose about him, and she could see shadowed glimpses of his bare skin in the firelight. She’d put her hands on his waist, when he’d been – inside her. His muscles had bunched and gathered. His skin had been – warm.</p><p>She gulped eagerly at the wine, feeling her cheeks flush blotchy red. </p><p>“This is not – what I would have chosen,” he said, almost to himself. </p><p>She stared at him, this golden, beautiful stranger whose life had been joined to hers. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her. </p><p>“It’s what we’ve been given,” she said, more harshly than she meant to.</p><p>**</p><p>The next day Ser Jaime rode north with the King and his great procession, and Brienne left the Stormlands with Lord Tywin Lannister for Casterly Rock. </p><p>She would not see him again for another year, until he returned to the Rock after attacking Ned Stark in the streets. </p><p>** </p><p>Before he went off to play at war in the Riverlands, he lay with her again. </p><p>It was at Lord Tywin’s insistence, she knew; her good-father had made it clear that he expected her to produce an heir in a timely fashion. Never mind that she had not seen Ser Jaime since their wedding night. </p><p>The second time she lay beneath him, she at least knew what to expect. It was still too-close, too-intimate; she could smell the wine on his breath and almost taste the salt-slick sweat on his skin. </p><p>Afterwards, as on their first night, he poured two glasses of wine. They drank in strained, uncomfortable silence. </p><p>**</p><p>When Lord Tywin went off to war, Brienne stayed behind at the Rock.  </p><p>She was not beautiful or graceful or accomplished in the womanly arts, but she knew how to run a noble household. She knew how to command. </p><p>She held Casterly Rock even after Ser Jaime was captured in the Whispering Wood, even after Ned Stark’s death, even as the Young Wolf began to win victory after victory and pushed beyond the Golden Tooth into the Westerlands.</p><p>And then – and then Stannis’ vile whispers of treason and incest reached her ears, and deep in her heart she knew them to be true. She’d seen the way the Queen looked at her, the poisonous hate and jealousy that could not rationally be explained. </p><p>She’d seen the way Ser Jaime looked at his beautiful golden sister. </p><p><i>This is not what I would have chosen,</i> he’d said on their wedding night. </p><p>**</p><p>When Renly Baratheon called his banners and declared himself king, Brienne suffered a crisis of conscience. </p><p>She had no loyalties to the Westerlands. She hated and feared Lord Tywin and she resented ser Jaime. Lord Renly had been kind to her, and had smiled and laughed and danced with her. Her father was a sworn bannerman to Storm’s End. </p><p>And yet – and yet – </p><p>And yet she stayed. Because it was her duty. </p><p>Because she was no longer Brienne of Tarth; she was the Lady of Casterly Rock, and the smallfolk and the lesser lords looked to her for direction. </p><p>** </p><p>When the Young Wolf escaped death at his uncle’s wedding and came for Casterly Rock, Brienne called her banners and rallied the Westerlands. Marbrand and Brax, Crakehall and Plumm, Lefford and Lannister, they answered her call and stood with her against the combined forces of the North and Riverlands. </p><p>Trumpets called. Banners snapped and rippled in the wind. Swords and spears clashed. Men and horses screamed as they died. It was nothing at all like she had imagined, but she was not overwhelmed; she stood firm against the men who would invade her lands and kill her people, and she threw them back. </p><p>She won the first victory, and then a second and a third. The people of the Westerlands flocked to her, great lords and knights and smallfolk alike; with their help she took back the castles and strongholds the Northerners had seized, and finally, as long months and battles passed, she forced the Young Wolf out of the Westerlands and beyond her borders. </p><p>** </p><p>She returned to Casterly Rock triumphant, riding a milk-white destrier, wearing battered golden armour and a smoke-blackened crimson cloak. Lion banners snapped in the wind, and the smallfolk cheered and called her name – </p><p><i>Brienne the Brave!</i> they cried. <i>The Lioness of Casterly Rock.</i></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Lady Regent</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brienne goes to Riverrun to retrieve her husband. And then sends him on his way.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Brienne Lannister, the Lady of Casterly Rock, rode to the gates of Riverrun at the head of a mounted escort. Banners bearing the Stark direwolf and the Tully trout flew proudly from the battlements; Brienne wondered who would have invested the castle had her good-father succeeded in his plans for a red wedding. Instead, the Young Wolf had escaped, and had come for the Westerlands – and Brienne had only thrown him out after long months of war. </p>
<p>Catelyn Stark, the Young Wolf’s mother, met her at the portcullis, flanked by mounted knights and crossbowmen. She stood tall, fierce and dignified, her blue eyes hard and suspicious. </p>
<p>“Lady Lannister,” she said coolly. “We received your ravens.” </p>
<p>“And?” Brienne asked. </p>
<p>“Show me my daughter first.”</p>
<p>Brienne made a gesture. A cloaked figure rode up beside her, put up slender white hands and cast back her hood to reveal her pale face, red hair and wide blue eyes. “Mother,” she said, her voice shaking.</p>
<p>“Sansa,” Lady Catelyn breathed. She put a hand to her heart. “Oh, thank all the gods.” She turned to her men, spoke an order, and the mounted knights parted to reveal a pale, wraithlike figure dressed in filthy rags, heavily bearded, squinting against the sun. </p>
<p>“Take him,” Lady Catelyn said. One of the knights gave the figure a push, and he walked on unsteady legs towards Brienne even as Sansa swung down from her horse and ran into her mother’s arms. </p>
<p>Brienne looked down at the pale, wasted form of her husband, his green eyes blinking wildly in the light, darting this way and that before they fixed on her. A shadow of the old, familiar irony slowly dawned in them – “Good gods,” he drawled, “can it be my lady wife?” </p>
<p>She unclasped her heavy crimson cloak and swung it round his shoulders. “Mount up,” she said curtly. “It’s time we returned to King’s Landing.” </p>
<p>She turned back to Lady Catelyn. “Tell your son that King Joffrey and Lord Tywin are dead. King Tommen sits the Iron Throne now. The Crown is willing to cede you the North, if it will mean an end to this war.” </p>
<p>“And who stands behind King Tommen?” Lady Catelyn demanded. “Cersei Lannister would never agree to such terms.” </p>
<p>“Cersei Lannister is no longer the Regent,” Brienne said. “I am.” </p>
<p>** </p>
<p>After she had driven the Young Wolf out of the Westerlands and secured Casterly Rock, Lord Tywin had called her to King’s Landing. Wars of a very different sort were fought in the corridors of the Red Keep, bloodless and far more treacherous; when Joffrey had choked to death at his wedding the knives had come out, Lannister versus Lannister, and Brienne had done her best to shelter her good-sister Sansa while trying to stay in Lord Tywin’s favour, fending off Cersei’s attacks and protecting Tyrion as best she could. </p>
<p>She had killed Gregor Clegane to prove her good-brother’s innocence. And he had repaid her by murdering Lord Tywin and vanishing into the night. The power-struggle after Tywin’s death had been even more vicious, but eventually it was Brienne, not Cersei, who had emerged triumphant. </p>
<p>** </p>
<p>That night, after they had made camp and the men had erected her red-walled tent, Brienne watched as her husband cut off his matted hair and beard and washed away the grime of Riverrun’s dungeons. Pale and wasted, he was a mere shadow of the arrogant golden lion she had married, before the Seven Kingdoms had been plunged into war; still, after his bath and a good meal, dressed in rich crimson and gold once more, he regained something of his old manner. </p>
<p>“The last time we met, you were a shy bride at Casterly Rock,” Jaime said, lounging in his chair and staring curiously at her. “And now you say you are the Regent. For Tommen.” </p>
<p>“Much has happened since you were taken prisoner,” she replied calmly. </p>
<p>He grinned, a sharp, sardonic acknowledgement. “So it seems.” He took a sip from a ruby-encrusted goblet, the wine staining his lips dark red. “I heard the men calling you the Lioness. When we first met, I thought you a shy, lumbering creature – but it seems you’ve learned how to roar. ” He raised the goblet in an ironic toast. </p>
<p>“I am as I have always been,” she said. “Marrying a lion did not give me added courage.”</p>
<p>“No?” He shrugged. “But it gave you Casterly Rock and all its wealth and resources – and made your roar that much louder.” He grinned. “Come, wife, let us not quarrel. Did you truly kill the Mountain?” </p>
<p>She told him the story of her terrifying duel. His eyes glinted with warm, albeit drunken, approval and the ever-present amusement, and when she was finished he saluted her again – entirely without irony. </p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The next day they resumed their journey. He did not seek to take charge of the company, deferring to her leadership, and seemed more interested in the passing countryside and the feel of sunlight on his upturned face. </p>
<p>He saw her watching him. “Alive and drunk on sunlight,” he said, smiling. “Strange, the things I missed in the dungeon. I even thought about you, sometimes.” </p>
<p>“Not Cersei?” </p>
<p>He tilted his head, smiled ruefully. “Her, too. But I did wonder how you fared. Tell me, my lady – did you think of <i>me,</i> at all?”   </p>
<p>“Not once,” she replied. </p>
<p>He only laughed. </p>
<p>** </p>
<p>That night in the red tent, they drank and talked by the light of wrought-bronze braziers. Brienne looked on this stranger who was her husband and remembered his words on their wedding night: <i>This is not what I would have chosen.</i> </p>
<p><i>It’s what we’ve been given,</i> she’d said. </p>
<p>Once, she’d been a young girl from a minor house in the Stormlands. Now she lived surrounded by crimson and gold and roaring lions, lady of the greatest house in the Westerlands and Regent to King Tommen Baratheon. </p>
<p>All because of words spoken in a sept, a cloak clasped around her shoulders. </p>
<p>“What happens now?” he asked.</p>
<p>She didn’t know.</p>
<p>** </p>
<p>On the second day of their journey they came across a group of ravaging mercenaries who had once accepted Lord Tywin’s gold before switching allegiance to Roose Bolton. Once Robb Stark had shortened Lord Bolton by a head after the failed red wedding, they became no more than broken men preying on the Riverlands. </p>
<p>Brienne’s hand-picked force of well-mounted, heavily-armed knights and men-at-arms cut them down without mercy and hanged the survivors.  </p>
<p>“I’ve heard of that one,” Jaime said, nodding towards the villainous leader, still twitching on the end of his rope. “He liked chopping off hands and feet.” </p>
<p>“Good riddance,” she said. Grimly, she watched until the convulsive twitching stopped and the bandit hung still and lifeless, before she turned away. </p>
<p>** </p>
<p>“We must make an heir,” Brienne said on the third night. </p>
<p>Jaime blinked. “That’s a funny thing,” he said lightly. “Your lips were moving, but I heard my father’s voice.” </p>
<p>“He wasn’t wrong.” Brienne stood up and stripped off her sword-belt. “The times are troubled. We must secure the succession.” </p>
<p>“No.” He stood up, put his hand beside hers on her sheathed sword. “Your power is vested in <i>this,</i>” he said, “and in your victory over the Young Wolf. What will men think of the Lioness of Casterly Rock when she is round with child and unable to fight?”</p>
<p>“Well, what do you suggest?” she demanded.   </p>
<p>“I will go back to the Rock,” he said. “I will hold the Westerlands while you hold the throne. When Tommen is older and things are more stable, you can return – or not – as you choose. If Tommen should fall, a safe haven will be waiting for you.” </p>
<p>“And if I never return?” she asked. “Or if I am killed in King’s Landing? What then?”  </p>
<p>“We Lannisters are a prolific bunch.” He shrugged. “I’ve dozens of younger cousins to pick from.” </p>
<p>She stared at him curiously. “You really don’t care a fig for the Rock, do you.” </p>
<p>“Not one bit.” He pressed her sword-belt and the sword against her chest. “But you do.” He smiled, a small, warm, almost fond smile. “Go back to King’s Landing, Lady Brienne. Be the Regent and Lord Protector. Fight on the field and off, and let the whole of Westeros hear you roar.”  </p>
<p>** </p>
<p>Five days later they reached the walls of King’s Landing. </p>
<p>Jaime took the bulk of her mounted escort and headed west for the Rock. </p>
<p>Brienne rode up to the Red Keep and strode into the throne room, crimson cloak trailing behind her. </p>
<p>“Welcome back, lady aunt,” King Tommen said, smiling sweetly. </p>
<p>At his right hand, on a lesser throne, sat Queen Margaery. At his left stood his mother, the Dowager Queen Cersei. </p>
<p>Brienne squared her shoulders and prepared for war.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Long Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brienne and Jaime, standing together at the end of the world.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>The Mother of Dragons</strong>
</p>
<p>Newly arrived on Dragonstone, the Mother of Dragons sent ravens flying throughout the Seven Kingdoms – six, now, Tyrion said dryly – proclaiming her triumphant return and laying claim to the Iron Throne.</p>
<p>Only Dorne stood with her. The Crownlands, the Westerlands, the Reach, and the Stormlands all stood by the Lady Regent, while the Riverlands and the Vale were united with the independent North against – so far as Tyrion could make out – snarks and grumpkins from ancient legend.</p>
<p>“Let them focus their attention on the Wall,” Tyrion said. “It will leave fewer enemies for us to fight.”</p>
<p>“That means the main opposition to my claim,” Queen Daenerys said, “is the Lady Regent. Your beloved good-sister.”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The embassy from the North – Robb Stark’s bastard half-brother, Jon Snow, and a smuggler who had once served Stannis – turned the Queen’s mind to other concerns.</p>
<p>She took her dragons and flew far, far into the North, and when she came back she said that there was a far greater threat facing the world of Men.</p>
<p>“We must speak to the Lady Regent,” she said. “We must make her understand.”</p>
<p>Ser Davos coughed. “I might know a way.”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The waters of Tarth were every bit as blue as Tyrion imagined. The island itself was beautiful, with white sand beaches and thickly forested hills.</p>
<p>“Tarth is a small island,” Ser Davos said. “Mainly fisherfolk and sailors. Lord Selwyn minds his own and keeps mostly to himself.”</p>
<p>“A wise man,” Tyrion commented.</p>
<p>Still, there were two ships in the harbour with the distinctive red sails of the Lannister fleet.</p>
<p>Ser Davos eluded them easily enough, and landed them in a tiny hidden cove where Lord Selwyn was waiting for them. He was impossible to miss: a big, bluff man, tall and broad shouldered, with the same clear, honest blue eyes as his daughter.</p>
<p>“Davos, my old friend!” he cried, clapping him heartily on the back.</p>
<p>Ser Davos smiled warmly and clasped the old lord’s hand. “Selwyn. It’s been a long time.”</p>
<p>“The last time I saw you, you’d gone off into the frozen north with Stannis Baratheon. And now you are Hand to the King in the North.”</p>
<p>“Fate takes us all in strange directions,” Ser Davos agreed.</p>
<p>Lord Selwyn nodded gravely. And then his eyes strayed to Tyrion.</p>
<p>“Lord Tyrion Lannister is Hand to Queen Daenerys,” Ser Davos introduced him. “I’m afraid we’ve come on urgent business.”</p>
<p>Lord Selwyn smiled, a wry, crooked twist of his lips. “I thought as much. You, too, are welcome Lord Tyrion. I’ve heard much of you.”</p>
<p>No doubt, Tyrion thought.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Later, in the lord’s solar at Evenfall Hall, they sat down before the fire with glasses of Essosi wine.</p>
<p>“We need to speak to Lady Brienne,” Ser Davos said. “Winter has come, and there’s a monstrous army of dead men marching out of the frozen north. Very soon we’ll all have greater problems than Lannisters and Targaryens.”</p>
<p>Lord Selwyn scratched his chin and stared thoughtfully at Ser Davos. “An army of dead men,” he repeated. “I’ve heard all sorts of wild rumours, of course. Nursery tales of snarks and grumpkins and gods know what else. Had any man but you brought me this tale –”</p>
<p>“I didn’t believe it at first, either,” Ser Davos interrupted. “But I’ve seen too many strange things of late. I’ve seen demons brought into the world and men snatched back from death. I’ve seen dragons soaring once more in the skies of Dragonstone. I’ve talked to men who’ve been beyond the Wall and seen this army for themselves, and the horror in their eyes convinced me.”</p>
<p>After a long, thoughtful pause, Lord Selwyn sighed. “Well,” he said, “well. My daughter has fought wolves and krakens and roses and even her own kin-by-marriage, and has managed to triumph. What’s an army of dead men to that?”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <strong> The Dragonpit</strong>
</p>
<p>Brienne was clad in a crimson silk surcoat emblazoned with the golden lion. It felt like forever since she had worn anything but Lannister colours; she missed the blue of her childhood, the bright azure, rose and gold of Tarth.</p>
<p>But her influence lay in the wealth and armies of Casterly Rock. Her authority came of being the boy-King’s aunt-by-marriage. Her power was vested in her reputation as a war-leader, the iron-fisted Lioness of Casterly Rock.</p>
<p>She was no longer Brienne of Tarth, that naïve girl who left her home long years ago to marry Lord Tywin’s golden heir.</p>
<p>Now she was the Regent of the Six Kingdoms.</p>
<p>And today she would come face to face with a would-be conqueror.</p>
<p>“I wonder what this Dragon Queen is like,” her husband said, sprawling lazily in a chair, watching her ready herself for the conclave. “Which side of the coin prevailed at her birth.”  </p>
<p>Though his tone was deliberately careless, there was a fine tension in his limbs and his eyes were dark and worried. The thought of meeting the Targaryen Queen was – unsettling; the dragons were real, their spies said. Real, and capable of raining fire down upon her enemies.</p>
<p>She had sent 10,000 Unsullied against the vastness of Casterly Rock, and had been defeated. If she’d come herself, on her dragons –</p>
<p>“Will she demand my head, do you think?” Jaime mused. “Strange, to think of my sins finally catching up with me.”</p>
<p>“She may demand all she pleases,” Brienne said shortly. “She won’t get it.”</p>
<p>“No?” He considered this. “Not even if it is the price for peace?”</p>
<p>Brienne glowered at him. “You are my husband.”</p>
<p>“Not a particularly good one.”</p>
<p>“Nevertheless.” She buckled on her sword belt, clenched her fist on the hilt of her sword. “I’ve grown used to you. We work very well together. If you die, it will be –” she hesitated, “– inconvenient.”  </p>
<p>“Well,” he said, smiling, “that is something, at least.”</p>
<p>He got up out of his chair and walked with her towards the Dragonpit, by her side as always – the lord of Casterly Rock, the Regent’s most stalwart supporter. </p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The Dragon Queen was small, but her presence was great, and the vast bulk of the black dragon looming behind her was even greater.</p>
<p>She did not demand Jaime’s head, nor even King Tommen’s abject surrender.</p>
<p>Instead, she called on them to help her against an army of horror stories from the Land of Always Winter.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>“Will you go north, Aunt Brienne?” King Tommen asked in his youthful voice. Looking at his bright green eyes and his golden curls, it was impossible to be blind to his true parentage – the boy was a sweeter, gentler version of Jaime, lacking his sire’s sharp edges.</p>
<p>“Of course you must go, Lady Aunt,” Queen Margaery said, her brown eyes wide and guileless. “The Iron Throne must protect the Six Kingdoms.”</p>
<p>Leaving Margaery in King’s Landing to take control of Tommen.</p>
<p>Leaving Cersei in her exile at Storm’s End, plotting and scheming without hindrance.</p>
<p>If Brienne went north, there was a good chance that everything she had worked and fought for would be overthrown.</p>
<p>But it was Jaime who finally convinced her.</p>
<p>“You saw that – <em>thing</em>,” he said, when they were alone in her chambers once more. “It was nothing but mindless rage and hunger. If the Wall has fallen and an army of them is making its way south –”</p>
<p>There was a bright, reckless light in his eyes that she hadn’t seen for a long time. Though he’d proven himself an able lord of Casterly Rock, at heart Jaime would always be a reckless, hot-blooded golden knight, impatient of politics.</p>
<p>“Jaime,” she said. “If I leave King’s Landing now…”</p>
<p>He shrugged. “Tommen will have to fend for himself, yes. But the city is stable, the people are fed, and the granaries are filled with the last of the harvest. Margaery is cunning, and she has her grandmother behind her – she will rule well.”</p>
<p>“Jaime.”</p>
<p>“My lady Regent,” he said, walking over to her and putting his hands on her shoulders. “You never meant to rule forever, did you?”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>And so it was decided.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <strong> Winterfell</strong>
</p>
<p>The armies of the South – the Westerlands, the Crownlands, the Reach and what was left of the Storm lords – answered Brienne’s call and marched north under her command.</p>
<p>Winter had finally come. It was wretchedly cold, and the journey interminably slow, but finally, long weeks after their departure, they came in sight of Winterfell.</p>
<p>Tyrion welcomed his brother with open arms, and greeted Brienne with a wry smile. The Starks and the Dragon Queen afforded her – and Jaime in particular – a much chillier welcome, but still they were offered bread and salt and granted the hospitality of the keep.  </p>
<p>Fights broke out, inevitably, between their respective forces, but the bloodshed was kept to a minimum and a tentative accord maintained.</p>
<p>The dead came three nights later.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The sight of the lone wight at the Dragonpit had not prepared her for the horror of a whole army of them, mindless save for the direction of their frozen masters. Even Jaime couldn’t find a clever, insouciant remark; he simply stared, silent for once, his mouth tight and grim.</p>
<p>Still. The armies were looking to their commanders for reassurance; she and Jaime put on a brave front, and Brienne stood before them and made a grand speech, her words falling flat in the dark night.</p>
<p>But it was better than nothing.</p>
<p>And then there was no time for anything but fighting.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The darkness stretched on, never-ending, long hours of fighting broken by a few snatched hours of rest. They slept huddled together beneath a pile of furs, each grateful for the animal warmth of the other’s body. There was too little space in Winterfell for separate chambers; they had tried keeping to separate beds in the beginning, but soon found the winter cold too brutal. </p>
<p>In all their long years of marriage, they had shared a bed only twice; now they slept pressed together every night. They were far too weary for anything but sleep, but Brienne soon grew accustomed to the press of his body in the night, the smell of leather and steel and sweat, and the soft steady rhythm of his breath.   </p>
<p>They fought back to back, defending each other and their men, well-matched in this if nothing else – they grew so in tune that they moved almost with one mind, almost like two halves of one soul. And then afterwards they made their slow, stumbling way back to their chamber, leaning on each other, and treated each other’s wounds –</p>
<p>His hands were strong and well-formed, the fingers long and tipped with sword-callous. When he washed the blood from her face with a damp rag, his touch was gentle and sure, and she could feel his warmth and vitality.</p>
<p>She had stood up beside him in the sept, and he had settled a heavy crimson cloak around her shoulders and said <em>I am hers and she is mine</em>. It had been a mockery, then – but they had become allies in the years since, and perhaps even something like friends.</p>
<p>Here in the frozen North, surrounded by Starks and Targaryens and former enemies, he was the only person in the world she could truly call her own.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The Long Night dragged on and on, days turning into weeks and even months. They lost all contact with King’s Landing and the south, the terrible war against the dead becoming their entire world.</p>
<p>And the centre of that world was their firelit chamber, hushed and still, where they could finally let their weapons fall and simply rest, twined about each other, breathing.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p> In the end it was simple.</p>
<p>She woke in the middle of the night, curled together with him, and saw him staring back at her, his eyes clear and steady and unshadowed. She pressed forward, or perhaps he did, and their lips met in a kiss.</p>
<p>They were fully clothed, still in their leather and mail, but it was too cold for nudity; he worked her breeches open and tugged at his own laces, and when they came together it seemed natural and inevitable, their hoarse breathing and the rustling of their furs loud in the hushed silence.</p>
<p>She cried out when she reached her peak; he smothered his groans against her shoulder.</p>
<p>Afterwards, they closed their eyes and drifted back into sleep.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The horn called: once, twice, thrice. </p>
<p>They faced the end of the world together.</p>
<p>**</p>
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